


smoke and paper

by waveridden



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Core Mechanics (Blaseball Team), Gen, Season/Series 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveridden/pseuds/waveridden
Summary: The Core defies singularity, something that Adelaide has always appreciated about it. When she decided she wanted to be a librarian, she knew that it was pointless to try and define that in any singular way.On life, death, family, and books.
Relationships: Adelaide Judochop & PolkaDot Patterson, Ruffian Applesauce & Adelaide Judochop
Comments: 19
Kudos: 26





	smoke and paper

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes someone gets incinerated and you have an idea then it gets out of hand. RIV Ruffian and Hands, Mechs please stop getting incinerated I am begging you.
> 
> This is my first stab at some lore, nothing here is final or forever. Some notes:
> 
>   * Adelaide (she/her) is human, but with bionic/mechanical eyes that she chose to get after her vision started deteriorating when she was a young adult.
>   * Ruffian (he/they) is ambiguously human, and works as a blacksmith.
>   * My mental image of Dot is always and forever [this art](https://twitter.com/ChezForShire/status/1360816479747203075) by ChezForShire. When I describe Dot, this is what I'm envisioning.
> 

> 
> Thank you to @marquis for looking this over for me. CW for nongraphic major character death. Also some allusions to eye replacement and agoraphobia, neither of which are described in detail.

The library of the Core is not a singular place.

This is true of most things in the Core. The Core defies singularity, something that Adelaide has always appreciated about it. When she decided she wanted to be a librarian, she knew that it was pointless to try and define that in any singular way.

But she still made an effort to single herself out. Not out of any misplaced sense of self importance, only because she wanted to fill one of few gaps that she saw. The Core is full of knowledge, but so much of it is digital, and Adelaide wanted to keep the paper. She likes the way it feels. Holder of information, keeper of the fragile things.

She spends most of her time holed up in her library, a room between a processor and a printing lab that she’d laid claim to as soon as she had the idea. It’s constantly hot, despite her best efforts, but it’s cool enough that the paper won’t catch fire. So she learns to keep herself cool, dresses light, takes deep breaths.

It’s one of many libraries, of course. But the advantage of that is that whenever somebody visits, she knows that they need her, specifically. It’s a lovely feeling, although she’d never admit it.

The day that blaseball elections take place — something Adelaide is doing her best not to think about, despite everyone else in the Core bringing it up incessantly — she’s going through a collection of books, trying to sort them by language. She’s never been good with Cyrillic, though, and her ocular translators have been on the fritz lately. She’ll have to ask for help. With any luck—

“Addie,  _ moya zolotaya, _ ” a voice calls, booming through the stacks. “Where is my favorite librarian?”

Speak of the devil, Adelaide thinks, and the devil will visit your library.

“I’m the only librarian here,” she answers tartly. “What do you want, Ruffian?”

Ruffian’s head pokes around the edge of one of the stacks. His hair’s growing out, Adelaide notices with some distaste. That was never a good look on him. “Can’t I visit you just to visit you?”

“You haven’t been lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” Ruffian says, mock wounded. It’s impossible to believe the hurt in their voice. They’re barely smothering a grin as they look at her. “How have you been?”

Adelaide smiles. “I’ve been well, Ruff. How are you?”

“Fantastic! In fact—” Ruffian steps to the side to reveal someone standing behind him. Someone Adelaide doesn’t recognize, which is a rarity these days. They’re organic, and it looks as though they have squid tentacles in place of their hair. “I’d like to introduce you to the newest pitcher on the team.”

Adelaide barely hides a wince at the mention of the team. Instead she chooses to look at the pitcher. “Welcome down.”

“Thank you,” they say. They look distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m, uh, Dot. PolkaDot Patterson.”

“PolkaDot Patterson.” She waves. “I’m Adelaide Judochop. Ruff’s the only one who calls me Addie.”

Dot blinks. “Did you say Judochop?”

Adelaide rolls her eyes. “You know how it is. You’re transitioning, and they say you can pick a new name, and I was a kid at the time, and I thought judo was the coolest thing in the world because my parents taught me—”

“And you haven’t bothered to change it,” Ruffian finishes, immeasurably fond. “I’ve a favor to ask you, Adelaide.”

“And what’s that?”

“Our Dot is interested in your other job.”

Adelaide tilts her head. Now that’s interesting. “And you’d like me to introduce them?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Can I ask a favor of you?”

Ruffian sweeps their hat off and bows deep. He says something in Russian that Adelaide can’t quite parse, but she’s pretty certain that he’s taking the piss.

“Try again,” she says dryly.

Ruffian laughs and straightens up. “I said anything for you, lady of the library.”

“I’m stumped on shelving books by language.” She waves a hand at the stack. “Cyrillic.”

“Your weakness,” Ruffian says fondly. “I can take care of it for you.”

“Much obliged.” Adelaide stands from behind her desk, and Ruffian immediately moves to sweep her into a hug. She kisses their cheek. “I have a second favor to ask.”

“What’s that?”

“Stay for dinner?”

“Hardly a favor.” Ruffian runs a hand through her hair and lets her pull away. “I’ll be here, toiling away in this incessantly hot room—”

“You’re being dramatic,” Adelaide says firmly. She turns to Dot. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Dot says. They stand off to one side as Adelaide leaves the library, and then trail behind her as she starts down the hallway. “Can I ask you something?”

Adelaide can guess where this is going. “Ruffian could’ve taken you himself if he wanted. Between you and me, I know more shortcuts than your average citizen. I can just travel a little faster, I’m happy to show you around.”

Dot huffs out an awkward laugh. “Not that, actually, but good to know.”

She glances at them. “What is it?”

“Is anyone here actually from the Core, or are they all from somewhere else?”

“I am.” When she looks over again, Dot looks surprised. “I’m one of maybe a couple dozen humans who was born in the Core. My papa was an engineer from Tokyo, and my dad did street art in Harlem. They came to the Core and met. Most people fall in — I think Ruffian’s from Belarus, although I’ve never gotten a straight answer.”

“Have you left?”

“No.”

“Never?”

Adelaide takes a minute to consider what a novelty this must be. The Core has been all she’s ever known, which she supposes is strange in its own way, but it seems stranger to her to travel. To know so many places and have to reconcile them.

“Never,” she says at last. “I’ve always been here. My parents left when I was a teenager, and Ruff took over taking care of me. I’ve spent my whole life here.”

Dot nods, absorbing this. “Can I ask another question?”

“We like questions around these parts,” Adelaide says dryly, and for the first time she sees a flicker of a smile. “Go ahead.”

“Where are we going? Ruffian didn’t tell me what he was asking you for.”

Adelaide laughs. “Of course he didn’t. I work two jobs, so to speak. The library thing’s a hobby. I’m also a physical therapist.”

“Oh.” Dot goes quiet for a second. Adelaide doesn’t press; she makes a mental note to check in with whoever the captain is, Doc or Mira, to make sure that they’re accommodating whatever sensory processing issue Dot has. She’s sure they are, but it’s worth checking. “I don’t have a lot of hobbies.”

“All we have is hobbies in the Core.”

“And it keeps you afloat?”

“It keeps us anchored.” Adelaide stops in front of a door. “Would you like me to stay and make introductions?”

“Please,” Dot says. After a second they add, “Thank you.”

Adelaide smiles. “Any time.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


She doesn’t like blaseball. Everyone likes blaseball — everyone is supposed to like blaseball. She’s pretty sure that her name is on some kind of roster just by virtue of being in the Core.

It’s not that Adelaide couldn’t play blaseball. She’s probably more athletic than the average core citizen. It’s just that she doesn’t want to. Her dad had played and swapped teams, and her papa moved to follow him, and she hadn’t. She hadn’t known how.

So now she’s here, in a place that’s buzzing with excitement about something she doesn’t like. She does her best to be supportive, though. It turns out several of the old blaseball records are paper-only, so she’s popular for a little while. Gia visits half a dozen times, and Mira half a dozen more, and Lady even claims a corner of the room for a day to go through everything.

“You should come to our games,” Ruffian says to her hopefully. He’s been visiting her more, clearly spurred on by her comment earlier. He’s even been helping sort books, because it turns out he has something of an affinity for languages. “Just a couple games, just to visit.”

Adelaide purses her lips. She owes Ruffian a lot. They’d taken her under their wing when her parents left, encouraged her to start the library. After her vision had started deteriorating he’d supported her when she didn’t want to get ocular implants, and then he supported her when she decided she did.

She doesn’t like blaseball. But she loves Ruffian.

“Home games?” she says tentatively, and their face splits into a grin. “That’s not a yes—”

“Addie,  _ zolotaya,” _ Ruffian sing-songs. “You have shown a chink in your armor! Fatal mistake, you know. I can keep chiseling.”

“Leave me alone,” Adelaide mutters, petulant despite herself.

They reach over to ruffle her hair, even though it’s all in a perfect ponytail that had taken no small amount of time. “Addie, Addie,” they murmur, and for a second her heart seizes with fondness. “I would never.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The Core Mechanics, lineup mostly the same as it was when they last played, take the field in their first home game in years. They promptly lose. They also lose the second one.

“You need to come,” Ruffian says. They’re just wheedling her at this point. “How can we keep playing without you?”

Adelaide sighs. “When’s PolkaDot pitching?”

Ruffian brightens. “Next game.”

She’s only had a couple more conversations with Dot, but they’ve been settling in nicely with physical therapists. It turns out that being squiddish means they need a different fitness routine, and if there’s anything they love in the Core it’s something novel like that. Adelaide has been helping them settle in from time to time.

“Fine,” she sighs, and Ruffian shouts something celebratory in Russian. “You’d better win.”

“Between you and me—” Ruffian leans in. “I think Dot might be famous. People seem to be expecting them to do well.”

Adelaide blinks. “You haven’t looked them up?”

She’s taken the time to look up PolkaDot Patterson, just enough to know that they’re absolutely famous. They’ve been settling in nicely, and they seem to relish having to introduce themself to people. Something that comes with celebrity.

Ruffian waves a hand. “I looked enough to make sure that Doc would do well on the new team. He will, and that’s all I bothered myself with.” They pause and add, significantly, “All you should bother yourself with too, Addie.”

“Dot’s life is their business,” Adelaide says simply, and Ruffian nods in approval. “I’ll be there next game.”

And she is. She gets popcorn and sits in the stands, doesn’t even bring a book. Watching Dot pitch is something to behold. It’s the most visitors the Core has had in— well, in as long as Adelaide can remember.

In the second inning Ruffian hits a home run. It’s unbelievable to watch. Ruffian’s not a fantastic player, and he knows it. He looks as stunned as anyone as the ball sails out and away, standing to watch it as the team cheers.

The crowd is shouting, and Adelaide can’t help herself. She adds to the noise by yelling at the top of her lungs, “You have to run!”

Almost like they heard her, Ruffian bursts to life all at once, taking off at a jog. Adelaide claps and cheers and laughs with the rest of them, and when Ruffian makes it back to the Mechanics they all dogpile him. Even Dot, on the fringes of the group, is smiling broadly.

It’s the first time that Adelaide understands why people play. Here, now, she understands.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She’s not there when Hands gets incinerated.

Incinerations are a novelty — she thinks she can remember something similar from when she was younger, but that was a long, long time ago. She hasn’t seen one. She doesn’t see Hands go up in flames, and she’s happy for it.

Adelaide goes to the wake, though. It’s been a long time since someone from the Core went Up like this, and so it’s a bombastic celebration. It’s impossible to move through the crowd, the throng of people telling stories about Hands and everything they did and everything they were.

She finds Dot at the fringe, all but hugging a wall, and winces in sympathy. “Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” Dot pauses. “Except company.”

Adelaide goes to stand beside them immediately. “Do you need to step outside?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s a lot.”

“This isn’t what we did topside.” They pause, and Adelaide motions for them to keep going. “It was always so… mournful.”

“We’re still mourning.” Adelaide glances around and lands on Bottles, clinging to Lady’s arm. She points at them. “They’re going to make sculptures later. Ruff’s going to smith something. Here in the Core we make things for each other. There’s nothing sadder than creating something that’ll never be received.”

Dot shakes their head. “Even the way you talk about it is different,” they say, and there’s something wistful to it. “This is horrible.”

“It’s horrible,” Adelaide agrees. “Hands helped me build the library. They weren’t the only one, but they were a big part of it. They won’t be able to build more libraries, or to do anything new.”

“But?”

“But they’re still in the Core, even when they’re gone. They’re remembered. They’re part of the genetics of this place.”

“You’re being maudlin,” Ruffian rumbles from behind her. Adelaide turns to make a face at him, but before she can he rests a hand on her shoulder. “Tell a better story.”

Adelaide has thought about this, has had a couple of anecdotes prepared. But to her surprise, it’s Dot who says, “They let me practice physical therapy with them. I’ve been learning the exercise, and they let me teach them.”

“That’s our Hands,” Ruffian says fondly. “Too good for the rest of us.”

“Nobody’s too good for you,” Adelaide answers, and to her surprise Dot laughs softly. “Except, perhaps, me.”

“Perhaps,” Ruffian agrees. “Only you, Addie.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


She keeps going to games. There’s not much else to do. Especially when reality splits and takes Lizzy away, especially after Kelvin vanishes in a flood of something greasy and watery — Adelaide doesn’t want to keep missing these things. So she goes to every home game. She’s even there when they break ground on the stadium.

“But you should come travel with us,” Ruffian says. They’re frustrated, something that’s rarely directed at Adelaide. “Not everything will be contained to home games.”

It’s a good point, one that Adelaide has been mulling over when she has the chance. She’s already made a decision, not that she wants Ruffian to know that. “Why should I go?”

She’s expecting something teasing or something practical. Instead Ruffian answers, simple as anything, “Because I’d like you to be there.”

All of Adelaide’s teasingness drops away in an instant. At the end of the day, this is simple: Ruffian wants her, and she’ll follow them. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” They reach out and cup her cheek with one hand, and Adelaide leans into it easily. One of Ruffian’s thumbs sweeps across her cheekbone. “Addie, my best friend,  _ moya zolotaya, _ I always feel better with you watching me play.”

“You need to start smaller than everywhere,” Adelaide manages to say.

“New York,” Ruffian says immediately. “Our next series. I’ll smuggle you into my hotel room.”

“The team would gladly take me.”

“The smuggling adds drama.”

Adelaide rolls her eyes. “If you insist,” she says, and Ruffian beams.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Adelaide has come to realize that she likes watching Ruffian play. They’re not terribly good, but that’s never been the point. The point is the way they laugh after every strike, after every bad play.

He’s second baseman today, so Adelaide is sitting as close as she can to watch them. New York is too much for her, too open, but she can keep her eyes on Ruff and on the team in the dugout and feel better about that.

There’s a runner on second base who sprints to third, and Ruffian doesn’t even have time to call out. Instead he just starts laughing, and Ji-Eun on third laughs too. Even Mindy is laughing. Even the runner from the other team. Even Adelaide.

Ruffian is still laughing when he’s incinerated.

Adelaide hears it before she sees it and sees it before she understands. Here is Ruffian on third; here is nothing at all. Here is sound; here is silence.

She blinks furiously. For a second, a hopeful second, she thinks maybe that it’s something wrong with her eyes, that the mechanics weren’t calibrated correctly for anything outside of the Core. But then she sees Ji-Eun’s face, and Mindy’s. And there’s that silence, that awful silence.

Before she can even think about it Adelaide races to the railing. She’s wearing a skirt today, a long one, which rips as she leaps over the railing. She has to see, she has to—

“Adelaide,” Dot says, and suddenly they’re there, in her space, hands hovering on either side of her shoulders. It’s careful, delicate, and she hates it, and she wants Ruffian, wants to feel him ruffle her hair or touch her one last time, halfway between paternal and filial and entirely them, where did they go—

“Breathe in,” Dot says, and Adelaide takes a clumsy, heaving breath. “Adelaide, if you step onto the grass, the game claims you, do you understand?”

She takes another wheezing breath. “No,” she says, and her voice is too high and too thin and terrible to hear.

“We need a new player.” Their eyes cut over to second base — no, to the team. They’re all clustering around the base. They’re all watching. “And if you keep going, it’ll be you. Not everyone gets a choice. If you go back up, it can be somebody else.”

“Ruffian’s gone,” Adelaide says. There’s nothing else to say.

Dot nods. “You don’t have to do this.”

Adelaide doesn’t want to. She wants to be in the Core — and Ruffian didn’t even get to die in the Core, that stings more than it should. She wants to be in her library. She wants to be anywhere but here.

But there are artifacts of Ruffian in the Core, things they built and made adorning nearly every hall. She is the only artifact of Ruffian here.

“Where do I get a uniform?” she croaks.

Dot grimaces. “You have one.”

Adelaide looks down. Her torn skirt is gone, her whole outfit is gone. She’s in a Mechanics uniform.

“Good,” she says. “Alright. Good.”

Dot lowers their hands, but their fingertips brush against her arm, too light, not enough. “Welcome to the team, Adelaide Judochop.”

She nods. When she turns to the team they’re all staring, but she starts towards second base, trying to project confidence. “Anyone have a glove I can borrow?”

They do, of course. She gets it after every one of them has finished hugging her.

  
  


* * *

The wake is uproarious. Ruffian was a staple of the Core, a loss that everyone mourns, a life that everyone celebrates.

Adelaide is in the center of it all, couldn’t avoid it if she tried. Everyone wants to congratulate her and swap stories, and as someone who knew Ruffian as well as she did, she has the most stories to swap.

It’s Jolene who finds her eventually and steers her out of the heart of the crowd. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps a steady hand on her elbow. They end up at the library — she’s not going to have time for the library and physical therapy, but that’s a problem for another day. Instead she lets Jolene lead her there, and lets him open the door.

She’s expecting quiet, but instead there’s a flurry of activity. Mindy is standing by the cookbooks muttering to herself, and Bottles and Lady are bickering by a stack of old blueprints. The whole team is crammed into the room. It’s hot and sweaty and horrible.

“We’re accelerating your project,” Jolene says softly. “Tell us what you need.”

Adelaide just shakes her head. She needs Ruffian to finish sorting the books. She still hasn’t fixed her ocular translator, a flimsy excuse to get them to keep visiting. She needs a better hug than anyone here can give.

“Sit,” Jolene says, and Adelaide sits. “We’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” Adelaide says quietly. Later, she’ll be able to stand and help sort and tell stories about Ruffian from when they were both younger. Later still, she’ll get her ocular translator repaired, and she’ll finish sorting through the books in Cyrillic, and she’ll play her first full game. But for now, she lets her teammates work. For now, she is relieved that the library doesn’t have to be empty.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @waveridden on Tumblr, Twitter, and (occasionally) lurking in the maincord, come say hi!


End file.
